


Radiance

by Fierceawakening



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: BDSM, Dubious Consent, Gore, M/M, Mind Games, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 22:31:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fierceawakening/pseuds/Fierceawakening
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I always thought it was interesting how readily Megatron accepted Starscream back into his ranks after Patch. Of course, for someone like Starscream who prides himself on his wits and his schemes, having Megatron poke around in his memories must have been horrible. But at least at the end of S2 and beginning of S3, Megatron seemed very ready to forgive Starscream all of his mistakes. And now that we have canon confirmation that Starscream really had changed, it only convinces me all the more that something more must have happened between Megatron and Starscream in private... And of course, since it's me writing it, it must have involved gloriously violent atonement through smut. ;-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radiance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weallscreamforstarscream](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=weallscreamforstarscream).



> This is a giftfic for [weallscreamforstarscream](http://weallscreamforstarscream.tumblr.com), an awesome RP partner and friend. We'd been talking about spark-smut and RPing some ourselves, so I figured he might like some spark-play in here.
> 
> While there's nothing nonconsensual in this fic, it's both gory and psychologically intense. This continuity is especially dark for this pairing even if it's not written as abuse. Don't be sipping the glorious Haterade if twisted Megatron/Starscream is not your thing.

Starscream howled as the grip on his wing tightened. Pain flared through his sensornet, so sharp and pure his knees buckled. He fell heavily, crashing to the ground with a ringing clang. He knew that must have hurt too, but compared to the lightning-shock of an entire web of flight sensors being crushed in a gladiator's grip, pain in his shins was nothing.

He should have been used to it. After so long at war, sometimes it seemed he'd known Megatron for as long as he could remember. The days before Megatron, before the Decepticons, before the fall of his city - sometimes they felt like myth now. As fiercely as he fought for the restoration of his home - sometimes he wondered. Sometimes the spires of Vos seemed more like a legend, like a hope, like something his fevered mind yearned to build than a place he'd once called home.

Sometimes Megatron was all he knew.

He had always liked pain. The slim frame of a Seeker was small and light, the sensor arrays elaborate and finely tuned. Anyone of Starscream's build who liked bigger mechs would almost have to have a penchant for rough treatment. More often than not, their embraces brought scuffs and scratches and dents.

And then there was the size of their spikes, too large for the dainty valves of smaller builds.

Starscream, for his own part, had welcomed the challenge. He kept his frame buffed and polished, so few saw the evidence of his predilections. But anyone who looked close enough - a personal attendant, a medic, a lover - would see the telltale glint and shadow of old nicks and scratches as he moved.

And it was impossible even for Starscream to hide the jagged edges of the rim around his valve and the scuffed edges of the cover that protected it. Anyone who came close enough to Starscream to interface with him knew.

And Megatron and Starscream had wanted one another from the beginning.

Megatron had always liked his wings, the warlord's heavy claws gripping tight at the metal and squeezing until Starscream's internal alarms screamed warnings and the pain raced like fire through his sensor arrays. That was how it always happened, so familiar to him now that he felt himself responding even as Megatron's unyielding grip crushed his wings ever tighter. His valve spasmed beneath its cover even as he twisted wildly in the big mech's grip.

But this was different. This was  _more._ If Megatron meant to toy with him, he would leave a few dents, twisting and pulling and scratching with the tips of his claws, the ache and sting building slowly until Starscream's only thought was how he wanted more of it.

This burned, searing Starscream's every circuit, and his interface array's blind response made him snarl. From the way he could feel his own wing warp and buckle under Megatron's hand, Starscream had the wild thought that he might need a new wing when this was over.

Megatron wanted something, and it wasn't his pleasure.

At least not yet.

His vocalizer stung from screaming. He tried to laugh - bitter, insane, as angry at the impossible heat in his valve as at the pain in his wing - and only a fizzing pop of static came out.

Megatron's hand opened, its vise-tight grip on his wing loosening. But it did not bring relief. No sooner had Starscream sighed with the expectation of reprieve than his sensors pulsed, aching with protest as feeling returned.

He lifted his head and spat sparks at Megatron. They fell in a glittering rain over Megatron's abdomen. Starscream hoped they would sting, a minor, petty revenge.

Megatron only laughed. Through the haze of Starscream's pain, the rolling laughter rumbled deep as thunder.

"You accepted me," Starscream ground out, his voice still staticky from shrieking. "You took me back. You pardoned me -"

He could see the light of Megatron's optics, gleaming molten-metal red as they stared down at him. He shuddered, his wing twitching, and winced as another lightning-shock of pain lanced through his systems. Static burst across his vision and his own optics flickered. Gritting his dental plates, he forced himself to focus on Megatron.

"I did," the warlord said. His empty claw clenched tight. Starscream watched the movement, mesmerized.

"Then why - ?" He hazarded a glance at his own wing, and gasped.

What once had been a smooth expanse of metal was torn and twisted, buckled in on itself in crumpled bands, each one the clear impression of one finger of a massive hand. Exposed cabling peeked from gaps in the metal, and sparks crackled over the surface.

"I pardoned you," Megatron said. "I restored you to your place."

"You pardoned me," Starscream repeated, glancing over at his other wing. Beside the mangled mass of metal and wires that drooped from his other wing joint, the pristine surface looked almost like it belonged to someone else.

A thought chilled him, and he snapped his mouth shut again Would Megatron do the same to the other one?

 _It doesn't matter,_ he thought wildly, another fey laugh bubbling up in his spark and emerging from his aching throat as a sharp, discordant bark.  _He'll do whatever it is he wants to do anyway._

He felt his valve spasm again, another blind clenching, and then the hot drip of his own lubricant leaking from beneath the valve's cover. He bit back another curse.

 _I haven't surrendered,_ he thought.  _Not yet._

"You restored me to my place," Starscream ground out, forcing himself to look up at Megatron again. "You made me second only to you, as I was before I left."

Megatron nodded. The barbs of metal at his shoulders flared.

Starscream scowled. That meant he was  _pleased._ His spike was probably hard under its cover already.

His valve cover clicked, wanting to slide open in spite of all that had happened. Furious, he willed it to slam shut again, praying that Megatron hadn't heard the sound.

His voice rose in pitch. "You even gave me back my armada of Seekers in celebration!"

Megatron snickered. "You were their commander. If I had ordered them to stay away from you, do you really think they would have obeyed?"

Starscream's optics widened. Had Megatron actually confessed that some of the Decepticons might choose  _Starscream_ over him? Since the very beginning, Starscream had dreamed of exactly that. Megatron had known it from the moment he'd accepted Starscream into his ranks.

And now...

And now, with his wing mangled and Megatron laughing in his face, Starscream found he could not savor it.

He shrieked again, his blasted wing twitching weakly. He hissed anew as its sensors protested.

"Then what,  _my lord_ , could I possibly have done between then and now to warrant  _this_?"

The warlord's scarred lip plates twisted into a grin, drawing back to reveal gleaming fangs. Starscream scowled. He'd welcome their bite, if Megatron weren't so invested in  _actually hurting_ him!

"You are right, Starscream. I gave back everything you had lost. Your home. Your rank. Your place among the Decepticons."

The warlord's massive bulk leaned down toward Starscream, a latticework of fang and spike and claw. And the cannon atop one arm hummed with deadly energy as Megatron reached for Starscream, his claws wrapping around the Seeker's other wing.

_At least it means he isn't going to shoot me._

This time Megatron curled his claw over Starscream's wing with coaxing slowness, the grip tightening just enough to ache. It would have felt like love-play if his other wing wasn't mangled half to scrap. He shivered in Megatron's grasp, his wing pressing into the claw that held it. He cursed himself for the involuntary response and froze, waiting for Megatron's massive hand to twist and tear and blank his sensornet with torment all over again.

But Megatron did nothing more. His vocalizer spitting quizzical static, Starscream leaned closer, his own slender claws reaching for Megatron's thighs. Did this mean the torture was over? That Megatron was tired of hurting him already, and meant to take his pleasure?

It was too much to hope. But perhaps if Starscream played sultry enough, Megatron might forget whatever foolishly painful little game he had in mind. Starscream willed himself not to think of the throbbing in his wing, allowing himself only to feel the warmth of the metal under his hands as his claws slid over the plating, seeking the seams in the armor.

Megatron's voice stopped him, a low and deadly whisper. A lover's voice, not a tyrant's bellow. Starscream whimpered, suddenly aware of the aching emptiness in his valve. Lubricant still seeped from beneath its cover, smearing his thighs with warm quicksilver.

But Megatron's words were not words of desire.

"I looked inside your head, Starscream," he said. "I sifted through your memories, and found only lies and betrayal."

"But you said -"

A tug on his wing stopped Starscream's protest. He slammed his own mouth shut, not wanting to court torture. Gritting his dental plates, he forced himself to focus on what Megatron was saying.

"I said that I would not let dissension split the ranks of the Decepticons. I meant it. But you did not simply abandon your post, Starscream. You turned your back on  _me_  as well."

"Master -" Starscream protested. He would have swept his wings downward in a show of submission, but Megatron was still holding on to one, and the other hung limp from its socket in his back. The best he could do was move it in a feeble half-gesture that would do little to convince Megatron of anything.

Still, that was something. Or so he hoped.

"I've seen my error," he whined, hating his still-staticky voice for its halting, quiet rasp. "I swore I would serve you loyally -"

Megatron's frame rumbled, perhaps a roar of anger and perhaps a laugh. Starscream racked his processor, trying to figure out which.

"You did promise me that, Starscream. You've always been good at making promises."

Starscream smiled, a twisted rictus. "Then I -  _aaaaaahhh!_ "

His words became a cry as Megatron twisted at his wing, the plating denting in the warlord's massive hand. The other wing throbbed in sympathy and Starscream keened, his own claws digging deep into the spaces between Megatron's hip plates.

He felt energon well up around his clawtips, wet and warm.

 _Good,_ he thought, angry. If Megatron wanted to be cruel, it was nothing more than what he deserved.

Megatron growled again; Starscream watched his lip plates curl and his optics flare, perhaps in pain, perhaps in temper. His spark pulsed hot, seeing the expression, and he pressed his legs together as fresh lubricant oozed from his valve.

"You tried to kill me, Starscream," Megatron was saying. "More than once."

Starscream's head twisted to stare at the mangled lump hanging from his wing joint. "And now you want to punish me," he hissed. "Fine. Just get it over with."

"Punish you, Starscream? Is that what you think this is about?"

Starscream gasped as Megatron's hand opened and the claw released him. Sensation flooded through the mauled sensors and he keened at the flood of data, a sharp moment of pain before the relief that wasn't coming soon enough.

"I don't -" Starscream tried to say, his words dying in another burst of static.

Megatron's claw slid over his shoulder and down his chest, the claws digging in as they moved. The touch burned, searing and bright, and Starscream's hips rocked as he felt his own energon well up from the scrapes. Megatron had always liked to leave his mark on Starscream, and Starscream had always liked to bleed. Through the weakness suffusing his systems, the sharp sting felt clear and crisp, a bright shock calling him back to himself.

Heedless of his own will, his valve cover slid open.

He felt the air hit it, a sudden, bracing coolness, and his cooling fans roared. He could no more have hidden the sound than he could have hidden himself now, his valve yawning open, the lubricant smearing it gleaming silver in the light.

Megatron did laugh then, the sound a rolling purr.

 _You knew the whole time, didn't you?_ Starscream thought, glaring balefully at the metal plate still covering Megatron's spike.  _At least let me see you._

"You begged me to look into your spark once, Starscream," Megatron was saying. "You said that what I found there would reveal the faithfulness that your actions did not."

Then Megatron did reveal himself, the cover sliding aside and the spike beneath springing forth, pressurized and straining, biolights blinking purple in the seams between its plates. Fluid glistened at its tip.

Starscream's spark pulsed hot in exultation.  _So this is affecting you too,_ my lord…

Biting back a laugh, he chided himself wordlessly. He should have known. Even Megatron couldn't resist him forever. Sometimes Megatron was all he knew - and sometimes Megatron was consumed with thoughts of him, as well. Hadn't he felt the warlord's need for him when that massive spike plunged in, heedless of the damage it did to the Seeker's too-slender valve, wanting only release?

He licked his lip plates, his optics brightening. Whatever Megatron had done - whatever else Megatron meant to do - none of it mattered. Starscream had left and returned. Once Megatron finished this little ritual, everything would all go back to the way it was before.

To the way it was supposed to be.

For a moment, Starscream's injuries meant nothing. He lost himself in the purr of his own engines, the heat curling through his spark, moving through his circuits down to his interface array.

_I want…_

But Megatron was speaking again, still saying something about Starscream's spark. Starscream  _had_ said that once, hadn't he? A long time ago, trapped alone with Megatron and his own iniquity. He'd stolen energon and hidden it in a cache in a cave. Megatron had found his stockpile and dragged him to the scene of his crime, swearing he would finally kill him for his treachery.

_Look into my spark, Lord Megatron! My intentions were true..._

And now Megatron's claw was curled over the edge of Starscream's chest plate. He shivered hearing Megatron's words.

"Perhaps I should see what you're hiding."

Starscream forced himself to be still, slipping his clawtips from the seams in Megatron's plating. The energon smeared over them had pleased him before, a small physical token of his defiance. Now its stickiness made his tanks turn. If anything, it was a symbol of his guilt.

Even if he proved as steadfast in Megatron's service as Soundwave, his defiance would always be part of him - and Megatron knew that he knew it.

 _You took me back!_ Starscream thought, so desperate he thrashed against Megatron's hand.  _You gave me my warriors to welcome me home…_

With a deep roar of his engines and a growl from his throat, Megatron tore the chest plate from Starscream's frame.

Lightning flared in front of Starscream's optics. His vision faded to searing white as he threw back his head and keened. His throat stung, a tiny flare of pain among a sea of it, and he felt his exposed spark contract in agony.

He cycled air in ragged pants, his optics flickering as they reset. His head lolled and his wings twitched. For a moment he wondered why his wings seemed suddenly heavy, dead weight dangling from his joints.

"Master," he panted. his head drooping as he fought to focus. "I - I want only to serve - but -"

A massive hand slipped inside his exposed chest, the clawed fingers curling over the orb of his spark. Starscream immediately stilled. One slip, and Megatron's razor-sharp claws would pierce the very source of his life itself.

One squeeze, and Megatron's broad fist would crush him.

But Megatron's claws did not curl inward. His grip did not tighten over the swirling orb of Starscream's spark. His claws lay poised around it, still and careful, like a collector handling a fragile, prized possession.

"But?"

"I - I can serve you. I can be loyal. I - I can do your will."

He lifted his head, fighting its heaviness. His optics flickered. "But I cannot change what I am."

Starscream felt a deep thrumming, a tremor reverberating through the hand that held his spark. His processor still reeling from the trauma he had just endured, it took him a long moment to realize that Megatron's frame was vibrating with laughter.

The big mech did not explain. He neither apologized nor mocked. But the blade-tipped fingers poised at the edge of the corona of Starscream's spark shifted.

The Seeker froze. After cursing him over and over for lies he could not take back, had Megatron finally decided to destroy him for confessing the truth?

He stared down at his own chest plate, torn off and discarded on the floor. It seemed unreal, a piece of scrap, the lifeless armor of some enemy the Slag Maker had destroyed and left to rust. And yet it was his. The energon stains spreading from torn cabling had - only moments ago! - been fresh fuel flowing through his own lines.

Starscream shuttered his optics, preparing himself for excruciating pain.

It never came. Instead Starscream felt a whisper of sensation, a gossamer trail of heat and light as Megatron's clawtips ghosted just barely over the outer surface of his spark.

It was like no touch he had ever felt. It was sensation springing from the core of all feeling, every sensor in his net quivering to awareness, to the teasing temptation of bliss that appeared and faded away before he could be certain he had felt it at all. His body arched, completely independent of his control, and he wondered for a sudden panicked moment whether he might kill himself, simply by not keeping still.

Then Megatron moved again and he moaned, deep and low, the sensors in his valve flickering to sudden life as though the tips of Megatron's fingers were touching him, sliding along the rim of his valve and shifting deep inside, everywhere, all at once.

He whimpered, maddened. Megatron had always used his spike - forcing it in, tearing him open, setting his sensornet ablaze. This gentleness, at once too little and too much, was more than he could bear. He felt a sudden gush of lubricant ooze onto his thighs and pleaded, some deep and basic sound in the language of his assembly, an appeal even his own parser could not translate into words.

He forced his optics open and Megatron's face swam before him, all spikes of metal and deep rust-lined scars and sharp fangs and burning optics, a molten-metal color that could dissolve him where he knelt.

Carefully, more slowly than he had ever moved before, he shifted the cables in his neck and lowered his head. Megatron's spike jutted out in front of him, just in front of his lip plates, hovering there as though waiting for his glossa or his kiss.

The sight of it pulled him back. This was something concrete, something real. Something he could  _do,_ if only his lord would let him move.

But Megatron was not done with him yet. The claw opened - deliberate, careful - and then closed again, tight over his spark. Then, so slowly he barely realized it was happening, Megatron's grip tightened.

The pressure was pleasant at first, an omnipresent constriction, a caress that caught and held him. Then it began to burn.

It was not pain, though he knew it could have been. If Megatron moved just a tiny bit more, Starscream would die, in agony no beating he'd ever endured could match, a death no torture could ever compare with.

Slowly, carefully, with as much care and deliberation as Megatron had shown before, Starscream arched his head and opened his mouth in a silent cry of surrender.

He heard thunder all around him and felt an earthquake rumble through his systems. He heard the laughter from the inside out, shaking his audio receptors, resonating through their core. There was movement - a searing sensation, a scouring flame, without beginning and without end.

All was fire. He burned in it, a living pyre, every sensor scorched to life, beyond pain and beyond pleasure.

Then the overload came, enveloping him in heat and light.

###

Something pulsed deep inside him. He felt hollow and empty, the way he felt after an interface, his valve aching from the stretch of taking Megatron's spike, twitching at the loss. But when his vision cleared, Megatron was still hard in front of him, fluid still glistening at the tip of his spike.

It was so  _ordinary_ he laughed before he could stop himself, a fey trill of reckless abandon. He hemmed, fighting to regain control of himself. Hadn't he promised he would do his best to respect Megatron? To talk - if he could - like Dreadwing had before he turned, or to sit silent and imposing like Soundwave?

 _But Megatron accepted me,_ he thought, suddenly and fiercely.  _He could have killed me, and he chose not to._

"That must have been difficult for you," he said at last, his faceplates shifting into an old, familiar smirk. "To watch all that and never even touch me."

"Of course," Megatron rasped, his voice staticky and strained.

"Then maybe I should help you with that, _Master_ ," Starscream purred, licking his lip plates.


End file.
